Memories
by Roobear98
Summary: After being transported to the graveyard and the rebirth of Voldemort, Harry is tortured by the Dark Lord himself. Then he is forced by a spell to have his memories played in front of Voldemort, his Death Eaters and Harry himself. Will the stone hearted D
1. Chapter 1

Title: Memories

Author: Roobear98

Summary: After being transported to the graveyard and the rebirth of Voldemort, Harry is tortured by the Dark Lord himself. Then he is forced by a spell to have his memories played in front of Voldemort, his Death Eaters and Harry himself. Reliving his life at the life causes Harry to become distressed. Will the stone hearted Dark Lord see Harry in a new light? Can they bring him out of the past and give him a brighter future?

AN: All the things in the Harry Potter world created by J.K. Rowling are her creations. I will take no credit for her famous Harry Potter books.

Chapter One

Harry fell to his knees as the Cruciartus curse ripped through him. Hot irons being placed along his skin and knives were plunged into his body. He bit his lip to stifle a scream while the Death Eaters, wearing long cloaks of black and white masks, stood silently as their Lord tortured the boy.

Voldemort….

He was back…..

The curse was released. Harry surged forward onto his hands and knees, panting. His body ached and stung with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse. Harry could smell the dead, decaying grass and taste the blood from where he had bit through his lip. Sweat matted his unruly hair to his forehead while his limbs shook to keep him off the ground. His red and black champions robes (AN: They were red and black in the movie right?) were ripped from the horrid maze that he and Cedric had gone through….Wait Cedric…

Cedric Diggory's body lay in a heap by one of the many surrounding gravestones. The Hufflepuff had been killed just like that. Nothing but a flash of green light and he was gone. Blue eyes gazed up at the stormy black sky unseeingly.

Harry looked up into snake-like visage that was Dark Lord Voldemort. He had a bald head and slits for a nose. His crimson eyes, the color of newly spilt blood, were slitted and shimmering with intelligence and power. The looming figure wore a black cloak that hid the rest of him from view. Long fingered hands held a white crooked wand made of yew wood.

"There is a spell that I discovered many years ago." A cold sinister voice rang out across the graveyard. Voldemort feral grin sent shivers down Harry's spine. "It allows the viewers in the area to see one's past memories. Their worst nightmares. Their fears." The man cackled, high and cruel to all that heard. "Let us see how our pampered little Golden Boy adores his _fame _and _attention_."

Harry began to scramble backwards as the white yew wand was pointed at him. It was too late. The violet spell hit its mark between his emerald eyes. Blackness seeped into his view. The world around him went dark. Soon flashes of his life zoomed behind his eyes. He could catch snatches….

_The Triwizard Cup…_

_The golden egg…_

_Sirius… _

_The Basilisk…_

_The Stone and Quirrel…_

_Dursleys…_

Harry was floating in darkness. Soon shadowy figures came into focus, opposite of him. Voldemort stood near the front, his Death Eaters behind him. They too were floating in the dark with him. The Dark Lord grinned, his white pointed teeth seeming to flash even in the blackness.

The memories began….

_A woman...beautiful…red hair…green eyes..she sat in a rocking bouncing a little boy in her lap while the child giggled with innocence._

Harry looked at his mother. This was memory of his mother? Tears came to his eyes. He never thought he had any memories of her. He couldn't remember these. Only the pictures he had of her were all he had to remember her by.

The scene changed…

_The child sat on a man's stomach with scraggly black hair and warm brown eye's…. The baby, who looked much like the man, if the hair was anything to go by, was touching his face…..Studying its features…the child grabbed the man's glass and put them in front of his face…they were too big for his small face…the man laughed…so happy._

Harry watched from his position in room where he was standing on the memory's floor and watched his father. Silent tears caressing down his hallow cheeks. Voldemort, Harry saw, was sneering at the scene.

_James…he sat on the floor…the child playing with the smoke rings the man spouted out of his wand in the air…the child giggling happily…a bang…the front door flying off its hinges…screams…_

_"It's Him Lily! Take Harry and go! I will hold him off!"_

_Screaming…_

_The woman…Lily…picked up the child and ran up the stairs…_

_She held him close…tears streamed down her tanned cheeks…_

_"Be safe…" Lily whispered. "Be safe Harry. Be sound. You are so strong. Be strong."_

Harry watched. He fell to his knees. He reached out to her, his own tears flowing with his mother's. Sorrow…

_The door exploded inwards…a cloaked figure…she placed the baby in the crib and got in between the black cloaked figure and the crib…_

_"Please not Harry!" Lily sobbed. "Take me instead! Please not Harry!"_

_"Ssstand assside sssilly girl." A hiss…_

_"Please…please have mercy!"_

_"Thisss isss your lassst warning." Another hissing answer…_

_The woman didn't back down…a white wand…a hissed spell….a familiar green light…the woman's…Lily's…his mother's body fell to the floor…cold and lifeless.._

Harry watched as his mother's boy connected with the floor. A sob escaped him.

_The figure…looming over the edge of the crib…red glowing eyes…a sickly green light…a light surrounded the child…a shield…the spell shooting back to its caster…an inhuman scream…a pile of robes left…the house shook…the last thing heard before the room began to cave in…"Momma!"_

More sobs escaped Harry as the room was whisked away. He bowed his head, fresh tears in his emerald eyes. He cried…The man across from him, watching Harry scowled, non-existent lips pulling downwards.

_"He will have that scar forever…" Dumbledore…_

_"Can I say goodbye to him sir…" Hagrid…a giant of man giving the bundle a whiskery kiss…a cry of a wounded dog…_

_"Shhh! You'll wake the muggles!" McGonagall…_

_"Good luck Harry…" A whispered goodbye…_

Memories zoomed by. Too fast to really interpret. Soon they slowed.

_Harry Potter…five years old…scrubbing the kitchen floor…dressed in rags…he wiped the sweat off of his small scarred forehead…a horse of a woman…standing over him…yelling…_

_"Ungrateful Freak!" Aunt Petunia screamed in the little boy's face. "So stupid and weak! Just like his disgusting mother!"_

_A boy so skinny…so weak and starving…he stood at the stove…cooking…trying hard not to drool over the food…stomach growling in hunger…a fat blond boy…taunting…_

_"Hey Freak!" Dudley taunted. "Why don't we go Harry-Hunting later? I bet you can't run away from me for long!" _

_Dudley shoved the small boy into the stove…making hot grease from the bacon splatter over Harry…a small pale hand catching itself on a hot burner…red angry burns all over his hand…unshed tears…laughter in the background…a little boy sobbing in his cupboard…_

Voldemort watched as the memories went by of Harry's childhood. He frowned even more. He and his Death Eaters stood silent as the more memories played past. All thoughts of taunting the boy gone by what they were seeing.

_Aunt Marge letting Ripper sick Harry up a tree…cold nights in the fall cast out by his family…a fat man, Uncle Vernon towering over the little emaciated boy. A belt in hand. _

_Yelling…being shoved into the cupboard…the belt…Oh God the belt…the sickening sounds of the leather meeting skin…blood seeping out of the back of an abused boy…silent tears mixing with the blood staining the carpet…_

Harry was shaking by this point. He fell backwards and crawled backwards away from the scene until his back hit the memory's wall. He pulled his legs up against his chest hugging his knees. He turned his face away, not wanting to watch. With each crack of the belt Harry flinched violently. As he hid his eyes away from the scene, Harry missed the sickened and saddened looks the Deatheaters had.

Voldemort stared at the boy across from him in the darkness. The abused little boy…

_"Worthless boy and your disgusting Freakishness!" Uncle Vernon snarled. "Clean up this mess boy by breakfast or the next beating will not be as pleasant." _

_A small malnourished boy left to clean up his own blood…_

The memories flew by faster now.

_His letter…Hagrid…Hogwarts…Ron…the stone…Quirrel…The Dark Lord…Voldemort…_

_The train ride back…his uncle's welcome home present…_

_His uncle standing over him…his face purple in rage…the little boy's legs shaking uncontrollably…a slap…the little boy falling to the ground…a kick…a sickening crack of a broken rib…_

Harry began to rock back and forth. His hands covered his ears. He didn't want to listen. Tears of shame and sorrow fell down his cheeks as he shook his head, trying to get his own cries of pain out of his head.

_The little boy was yanked upwards…bruised and bloody…screaming…_

_"Ungrateful Freak!"…Uncle Vernon…"We should have drowned you the minute you were dumped on our doorstep!"_

_"P-please Uncle Vernon! I-I'm s-s-sorry! P-please have m-mercy!"…the little boy begging…asking for forgiveness…the clinking of a belt unbuckling…the little boy being thrown to the ground…the dark leather whistling through the air…_

"STOP!" Harry screamed. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't watch or listen to it anymore. "Make it stop! Make it stop! I can't watch! Please make it stop!"

The Dark Lord and his Deatheaters stared at the hysterical little boy. Harry was shaking horribly with his hands curled into fists around his ears.

"Just kill me!" Harry cried. "Just kill me! Don't make me watch this! Please make it stop!" He was shaking so much. He just wanted to die. He had not thought of killing himself for years. He had wanted to just die peacefully in his sleep. Just to pass away. No pain.

Lord Voldemort flicked his yew wand and the darkness around them faded. He and his Deatheaters were now standing around the headstone of Voldemort's father. Harry had pressed his back into the large stone behind him. Sobs escaped deep within Harry's chest. He pressed his face into his filthy pant legs. He couldn't make his tears stop.

"Please just make it end." Harry sobbed.

Voldemort moved forward slowly. Approaching the small, fragile little boy, he knelt down slowly beside the shaking form.

Harry didn't even care that the Dark Lord was so close. He just kept crying. His shoulders shook uncontrollably with his sobs. He felt so weak. So stupid….

Voldemort had a look of concern on his snakelike face. A strange expression to be seen anywhere on his character in all honesty. He reached out cautiously for the sobbing boy's shoulder. Stilling his spindly hand just before he touched the bloodied clothed shoulder, Voldemort seemed to judge if were a good idea in the first place. Then throwing his caution to the wind, the Dark Lord placed his hand gently on Harry's shoulder.

Harry stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He hiccoughed weakly, staring at his legs. He knew exactly who was near him. He gathered his Gryffindor courage and let his puffy, emerald green eyes drift to red slitted ones.

"Just get it over with." Harry hiccupped. "Just kill me. I don't want to go back there. Just kill me so I can't." He was so desperate to die…

Voldemort stared into teary emerald and slowly shook his head, never letting his eyes drift from the boy's.

"I can't do that Harry." The Dark Lord spoke quietly. "No one…no magical child…not even you…should have to endure the abuse you have gone through."

"Why do you even care?" Harry snapped at the man through his tears. "You wanted to kill me in the first place. Just get it over with. I just want to die…to just go peacefully." Harry pressed his face into his pant legs again not wanting to look into the concerned ruby eyes. No one had ever cared before…

"Killing a magical child is so much different then torturing them." The Dark Lord said softly. He turned his slitted eyes away from the child to his Deatheaters. "You are the first magical child to be tortured by my wand. And I regret doing so. If I had ever caught my followers torturing a child that held magic…they would receive what they inflicted tenfold. No child should go through what you have."

Voldemort's followers nodded. They had remembered that oath they had took at the beginning of Voldemort's first rise. There was a mandatory rule that all children were to be killed with the use of the killing curse. If any death eaters were caught torturing a child, he would receive what they had given tenfold before being put to death. Magical children are just too important to the wizarding world. Watching the Dark lord torture the boy, even if it was Potter, was shocking since it was Voldemort's rule to never torture a child in the first place.

Harry shook his head and shrugged off the man's hand as he scooted away from him. He didn't care. He just wanted his pathetic life to end. He wanted peace.

"I regret ever placing you under the Cruciatus Harry." Voldemort stated softly after Harry moved away from him. "It was not right to torture you. It was wrong and I am sorry." Voldemort watched the boy. He reached out again and brought his long fingers underneath the dirty, tear soaked chin. He pulled up the Harry's face so that the boy would meet his eyes. Red clashed with green.

A long moment of silence passed between them and in this time Voldemort seemed to come to decision.

"You must return to Hogwarts child." The man murmured. His thumb moved to caress Harry's cheekbone in a soothing manner. "Return to Hogwarts Harry."

The Dark Lord flicked his hand at Cedric's dead body and cup. Both levitated into the air and moved towards the headstone. Harry stared at Voldemort. He wanted him to return?

Cedric's body rested beside Harry while the cup stayed levitating in the air. Voldemort's white hand unclasped Harry's from his pant leg and guided it to Cedric's lifeless one.

"Go back Harry." Voldemort said softly. "Take the boy's body with you." Voldemort stepped away from Harry and stood in front of his Deatheaters again.

Harry stared at him. He wasn't going to die?

Voldemort raised his hand and dragged it towards the ground. The cup hovering in midair slowly moved downwards towards Harry's lap. Voldemort watched Harry with sympathy and understanding as he flicked his wand and a silvery wisp sped off and away from the graveyard. When the cup was about an inch above his lap, Voldemort spoke again.

"I will come for you this summer Harry." Voldemort spoke quietly though it rang across the graveyard. Only a few seconds before the portkey would be activated. "And I keep my promises."

Harry's vision swam out of focus as he fell into unconsciousness as there was a pull behind his navel.

~o~

Harry sat in the white crisp bed in the hospital wing. He stared ahead, eyes unfocused. He had returned, unconscious, with Cedric's body and had been pulled away by Moody as Mr. Diggory mourned over his son's body. Moody had taken him to his office and given him a potion to heal his leg from where the acromantula had bitten him in the maze and one for the after affects of the Cruciatus. (AN: Barty stays till the end of the year before he kills Moody and leaves his body in the bottom of the trunk. I never liked him much anyway. Adored Barty though!) He had watched over Harry as he slept. Moody had even started to doze off before Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall had raced up to his office to get them.

Snape had levitated the boy to the Infirmary where Madam Pomfrey had bustled over to heal him. Moody and the other teachers along with the Minister had all come to gather in the Hospital Wing to argue over if the Dark Lord was back or not. Snape had already showed Dumbledore the Dark Mark that had darkened to a deep black and was moving on the pale forearm. The Headmaster now knew that _He_ had truly returned. The Minister, being ever so stubborn, had refused to believe it and had stormed out before anyone could convince him. The Headmaster had then informed the staff and others of _His_ return and sent Sirius, in animangus form, and Severus to gather the _old crowd._

Everyone wanted to hear what really happened and anxiously awaited Harry's awakening. They had to wait two days. When he finally began to stir the staff, Weasleys along with Hermione, the Diggorys' and the two remaining champions had all gathered to hear what had happened.

Harry had woken up staring at a white ceiling and adjourned in the hideous white and blue striped hospital robes. He had pulled himself up into a sitting position where he was bombarded with questions on what happened and if _He _was really back. Harry had begun to hyperventilate and wheeze from all the questions. Madam Pomfrey had then yelled at them to give the boy some space before she quickly calmed down his rapid breathing.

When Harry had calmed down, Dumbledore stepped forward and asked if the dark Lord had returned. Harry hesitated only slightly before he spoke with a shaky:

"Y-yes…"

Hermione and Ron had visited Harry frequently in the Hospital Wing to talk with him after he had woken up. Hermione didn't push for details on what had really happened but Ron was making everything worse.

Ron had tried to get Harry to tell him what happened that night but Ron ended up losing his patience and yelled at Harry saying that he was just attention seeking and wanted all the fame after Harry refused to tell him for a third time. Madam Pomfrey had then thrown him out of the Hospital Wing for irritating her patients after Hermione had punched Ron in the nose. Hermione had hugged Harry and told him Ron was just a prat and deserved to be kicked in the balls. She then had told him that if he ever wanted to talk about it then he could come to her. She had then left him so he could get some rest. Hermione was always there for him….(AN: Hermy stays! YAY!)

_"I will come for you this summer Harry."_ A whispered promise. Harry was scared of going back to that house and the promise gave him a tiny sliver of hope even though he still doubted the Dark Lord's promise. Why would _He_ want to help? He was just a freak. Why would anyone want to help him? Even his once thought best friend had abandoned him. Harry felt dead to the world. He rolled over onto his side and closed his emerald eyes tiredly.

~o~

Harry sat in the train compartment alone and gazed out over land that was racing by. Rain pattered against the glass as he rested his hollowed cheek against the cool glass. He was returning to the Dursley's for the summer holidays. He felt so helpless. He had to return _there._ Harry wanted to just…disappear. To never be seen again. He didn't want to return to that house.

Hermione had asked him if he wanted to sit with her and Neville in their compartment but he had refused and said he needed some alone time. Neville and Hermione were very understanding and that if he changed his mind they would be there.

Harry felt the sting behind his eyes first before the wetness trailing down his cheeks. He felt some sort of hope that Voldemort would come for him and end it all. He wished to die. It was strange…He had not thought of killing himself in years. Now he would wish for anything than to return there….The Dark Lord could give him that. Peace.

Harry caressed his wrist silently before his teary eyes found the faint pink lines that ran across the underside of the wrists. Only he could see them. The great works of glamours. He had discovered the spell for glamours before he even started Hogwarts. He had gotten extra charms and potions books and discovered the spell. He didn't want anyone to know about his cutting. He had stopped doing it because of Hogwarts in the hope that magic was real. It had given him something to believe in, but even that had slowly diminished over the years.

Harry prayed that Voldemort would come and end it all….All he could do was pray….and wait.

~o~

Barty Crouch Jr., a thin brown haired man dressed in patched robes, kneeled in front of a large obsidian stone throne while his fellow Deatheaters outlined the ornate room. His Lord, dressed in regale dark green robes, sat before him waiting for a report on the latest issues and events that had happened at the school.

"The old auror is dead." Barty began. "Killed him once the train left Hogsmead. Left him in the trunk for the old coot to find him." Barty looked up to his master. Lord Voldemort nodded softly and motioned his hand to continue. Barty hesitated ever so slightly before he spoke again. "The boy….He returned unconscious with the Diggory boy's body. I brought him up to my office and healed, fixed him up a little. There was…" Barty trailed off not really knowing how to continue. He had been contacted by Voldemort just as he brought Harry to his office so he could kill him. The patronus orb had explained what had happened and that the Dark Lord would explain in more detail later.  
Barty swallowed thickly. He hated abuse, being a victim himself. At least Bartimus Crouch Sr. was dead…He had spoken to the Dark Lord when the boy was in the Hospital Wing and his Lord had explained what they had discovered about the boy.

But Barty had discovered something of his own about Harry…..

"He had scars on his wrist!" Barty burst out. "He has cut himself! They are all over his wrists! He's also wears Glamours. Strong ones at that! He's been covering this up for years it seems! That blasted eye can't even see through the powerful magic protecting the rest of his body! When I undid the glamours…." Barty shook his head angrily. "I had wondered all year and now I know why! He has been hurting himself and hiding what _they,_" Barty snarled, "have done to him!" Barty's kneeling body shook with uncontrollable rage.

The other Deatheaters stared in shock at each other. Thinking about the boy who they thought was pampered was cutting his wrists, to just kill himself or take the pain away, was a shock. They could not imagine a child so young going to such drastic measures….

The Dark Lord closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose, the slits flaring, to try and control his emotions. Many wouldn't believe it but the horcruxes didn't take away one's feeling or emotions but really seals up mere memory of an emotion, a piece of a soul, within an object. You still have that emotion and memory but it is just placed into a vessel. For example, Nagini, his familiar and faithful friend, was created with the strong emotion of happiness. Nagini had always been there for him and was almost like an older annoying sister that likes to boss you around or likes to just annoy you. That was definitely Nagini… Also when a horcrux is destroyed the soul doesn't die, for souls never truly die, but returns to the person who placed it there in the first place. It was the best way to have immortality.

Voldemort's spidery fingers caressed his temples, a new headache making a dull ache there, and sighed softly. The child had been through so much…

Lord Voldemort was surprised to find himself wanting to care for the boy. He had it bad in the orphanage where the muggles beat him for his magic but Harry had it worse for his own family, his flesh and blood, did this to him. He was also surprised by the fatherly emotions that seeped into his mind that made him want to protect the boy. The same boy who was prophesized to kill him. This is where things get tricky…..

Voldemort had his suspicions of the prophecy that had him go after Harry in the first place. He had already asked Lucius to gain access to the Room of Prophecies. If Lucius could pick up the prophecy and bring it here for examination he could not only hear the full version of the prophecy but examine to find the possibilities of what it means and see if it is truly real or not. He was still waiting for Lucius to return from the Ministry to hear what the man was able to accomplish. Lucius couldn't directly pick up the prophecy without curse proof gloves but he could find it and get around the spells that protected the crystal ball that held the prophecy. Voldemort hoped the blond Deatheater returned soon.

"Thank you Barty." Voldemort sighed, closing his eyes. "I will see to it when we take him from his relatives in a week's time." He could not go and take Harry right away. He had to get around the wards and protections that the old coot had placed around the boy's house. He already knew where Harry lived but just couldn't get to him.

"My Lord! We should get him right away and not dally while those pieces of filth hurt him anymore!" Barty snarled at the snake-like man before his eyes widened in fear since he had just back-talked his own Lord. Barty bowed his head as the other Deatheaters shifted around him for they too knew of the snake-like man's temper. "Forgive me my Lord." Barty whispered fearfully, frosty blue eyes peering up at the man in the throne through dark brown bangs.

Voldemort sighed. "You are right Barty." The Deatheaters and Barty looked up at him in surprise. Lord Voldemort usually responded to defiance with the Cruciatus Curse. "We should get him right away." The Dark Lord stood and swept past the kneeling Barty and over to the left of his throne where a high ceilinged window was placed. He leaned forward and rested his palms upon the wooden sill, gazing out over the grounds of his home at Slytherin Manor in an unplottable location. He breathed in deeply before letting out a long sigh. "If I could I would pick him up at the station today but the old man will more than likely have parts of his damned Order there. From that point the boy will be placed in that horrid place that man calls a home." Voldemort growled deep within his chest and swung around sharply to his followers, his ruby slitted eyes flashing with rage. "The wards around the house AREwhat is stalling his rescue. That old coot has made it difficult to accomplish." He snarled and turned back to the window. "Dismissed." He hissed to his followers.

Lord Voldemort stared out onto the grounds as his Deatheaters left the throne room after his dismissal. The man sighed and rested his pale forehead against the glass, the coolness soothing his aching head. He had promised to come and get the child and it was proving to be difficult….

The double doors to the empty throne room banged open, interrupting the Dark Lord's from his drifting thoughts, as a drenched Lucius Malfoy practically slipped and slid into the room on the rainwater that was dripping off his unique, and expensive, silk clothing. Voldemort turned in surprise to face the blond Deatheater.

"My…Lord…!" The man panted from running across the grounds in the pouring rain. "My Lord!" Lucius looked up, silver eyes wide and frantic. His usually straight blond hair was plastered to his head due to rain and his cheeks were flushed from his run. He looked so unlike the usually perfect and well carried Malfoy Head that everyone was so used to.

"What is it Lucius?" Voldemort asked looking at his most loyal and trustworthy follower with concern.

"My Lord the prophecy!" Lucius breathed. He was finally starting to regain his breath. "The prophecy…It doesn't exist."

(AN: Ooooh! Cliffy! I like the way I have had Voldemort changing his views of Harry. I always wondered what Voldemort would be like if he was a father and I always wondered; since Harry's secret power is his love, why doesn't Harry use that love to change Voldemort instead of killing him. I always liked Tom/Voldie and Harry father/son stories.)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Harry cried out in pain as the belt hit its mark in the middle of his back. He was braced against the wall of his room while his uncle sliced through his flesh of his bare back. Only a pair of torn Muggle jeans rested on his thin frame. Tears fell from his eyes and down his bruised and battered face. Large welts covered his pale skin, some oozing infected pus while others fresh blood. Harry was emaciated and his vertebrae and ribs were visible for all to see. The palms of his hands were an angry red from where Dudley had forced them onto the hot stove burner. FREAK in big, red bloody letters was carved into his stomach with a kitchen knife because of not completing his endless list of chores on time. It was already scabbed over and infected from not being cleaned and Harry knew it would be a permanent reminder of what he was.

Harry bit through his lip as the leather slashed through more skin and across the other welts, making his back burn and scream in pain. The belt whistled through the air as it hit in quick succession. The belt slowly was lowered as Harry's uncle watched the blood drip down onto the hardwood floor. Uncle Vernon stomped forward and yanked his nephew's head away from the wall and forcibly dragged him out of the room, the man's lumbering weight making the floor boards creek and groan in protest.

Harry whimpered as he was dragged by the hair down the stairs and with each movement irritating his new wounds. Uncle Vernon stopped in front of the basement door and yanked it open before tossing Harry carelessly down the stairs into the damp and moldy stone basement. Harry cried out in pain as he felt his arm snap underneath him as he came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. He laid there, stars bursting into his vision, as his Uncle glared down at him.

"You'll stay down there Freak and I don't want to hear a sound out of you or you'll regret it." His uncle snarled before slamming the door shut behind his bulky form.

Harry silently sobbed as he tried to move without causing anymore damage, though it seemed impossible. He crawled over to the nearest musty corner and curled up into a ball. His shirtless back facing the stairs.

Harry knew Voldemort wouldn't keep his promise. He knew Voldemort would betray his hope. Harry sobbed. He knew it. He was just a freak who was just a tool and scrape goat of the world. Just a worthless orphan that no one cares for. Harry felt so alone. Death seemed so peaceful…..Harry's vision slowly faded to black.

He fell into a deep painless dark, never hearing the distant cracks echo through the air.

~o~

Voldemort stood in front of Number 4 Privet Drive with Lucius, Barty, and a select few of his Inner Circle. Voldemort was twirling his wand in a complex pattern while runes glowed in the air as he dismantled the wards to not alert Dumbledore and the Order. The Deatheaters watched in fascination as the golden dome that never seemed to be there dissolved down into the perfectly trimmed lawn and disappeared.

Voldemort raised his hand in the silence and the Deatheaters shifted, practically bouncing, in excitement to hurt the Muggle filth that decided to hurt a magical child. The Dark Lord then clenched his hand into a fist and the black cloaked wizards stormed the house.

The muggles who were in the living room watching the telly were all captured within minutes and were now surrounded by the Deatheaters and their Lord. Voldemort sneered at the gagged and bound fat muggle whose face was sickly purple with rage.

"You have harmed a magically blooded child and you will pay for hurting that child. A child of _our _kind." The Deatheaters sneered as the horsey women shivered while her obese son cried in fear. The fatter walrus of a man began to yell and scream from behind the cloth that kept him from speaking.

Voldemort's eyes glowed as he crashed into the fat man's worthless mind. He had to find where Harry was…the Dark Lord turned and moved into the kitchen/dining room before looking back at his Deatheaters after ripping through the muggle's mind.

"Take them back to the manor." He hissed. "We will deal with them later." The Dark Lord then spun, hooded black robe swishing through the air as he did so, down the hall to the white basement door. He quickly unlocked the wooden door and proceeded down the rickety stairs, searching for any sign of Harry. The Dark Lord found him curled up in the corner. He quickly cast the counter curse for the glamours and was angered by what he saw. Harry was battered and bleeding while his breath was weak and labored. Voldemort could tell by the flush and sweat sticking to the boy's face that the child was sick. Most likely from the infected wounds that were never dealt with.

Voldemort removed his own robe and gently covered the shirtless child so he could keep warm in the nippy England air. He then lifted Harry's limp body off the stone floor and held him carefully, mindful off the back that was ripped open. The child looked weak and helpless. Voldemort looked him over with concerned eyes before they landed on the word branded into the child's stomach. His arms tightened around Harry unconsciously. The boy whimpered weakly before turning his battered face into Voldemort's dark silk shirt, shivering from his fever. His fever was very high for the Voldemort could actually feel the heat through his long sleeves. The Dark Lord took a deep calming breath and let it out, mentally counting to ten in his head. He did not need to blow up now, Harry was more important at the moment.

Voldemort carefully moved up the stairs and back into the kitchen to come face to face with the remaining Deatheaters that had stayed to wait for their Lord and the child. Three were absent from taking the Muggle filth to Slytherin Manor. He looked sadly at his followers and shifted his arms slightly. Harry shivered in his arms and curled up some more, trying to soak up the Dark Lord's own body heat. The Deatheaters, from behind their white masks, looked at the child sadly.

"Find his wand and other things and bring them down." Voldemort murmured to Lucius and Barty. Both nodded before disappearing to search the house. Voldemort stood there, just holding the sickly 14 year old child. Harry didn't even seem old enough to be in fourth year, more like second year he was so small and little. Voldemort rested his pointed chin on top of the raven locks and breathed in softly.

Voldemort could not feel somewhat guilty for Harry's placement at his relatives. He had fallen for the prophecy that didn't even exist. He had killed the child's parents. If only if that prophecy….no that old fool…Harry wouldn't need his help if it wasn't for Dumbledore.

When Lucius had returned and had told him the prophecy never existed he had been angry and upset that he had put the young boy through so much. Harry never deserved his parents being taken from him. He never deserved to go through Hell at the Dursley's. He never deserved having to fight for his life when he never really needed to.

Voldemort vowed to make it up to Harry….

Lucius and Barty returned with the boy's trunk, his holly and phoenix feather wand, a photo album, and his father invisibility cloak that Barty had found underneath the boy's bed in a bare room with multiple locks on the door and bars on the window. After packing away the child's things the remaining Deatheaters began to apparate away from Privet Drive.

Voldemort turned to the house with an emotionless expression, Barty and Lucius stood beside him, waiting. His eyes narrowed dangerously as his eyes became darker than any thought possible. Suddenly the house exploded into an inferno of flames taking on the form of a monstrous snake that resembled Nagini almost perfectly (AN: Fiendfyre! Powerfulest spell ever!). Without looking back, Voldemort spun on his heel and disapparated on the spot.

~o~

Voldemort gently lowered Harry's limp and light weight body down onto the soft silken sheets of the Dark Lord's own bed. Harry whimpered at the loss of close comfort and body heat. Carding his fingers through the raven locks, the Dark Lord drew his wand and cast a diagnostic spell over the boy. A parchment and quill appeared out of nowhere and began to record all the Harry's injuries and ailments. It took about eight minutes before the quill finally stilled. Voldemort ripped the parchment out of the air, his concerned eyes scanning down the three foot parchment before he sucked in a sharp breath.

_Oh Harry….._

~o~

Harry felt like his mind was crawling through black sludge. Trying to claw its way to consciousness. He felt weak. His body ached and burned. He felt cold and hot at the same time while his head pounded behind his temples. He snuggled deeper into the soft sheets to stay warm. Wait….warm? Sheets?

Harry opened his glassy emerald eyes. Everything was blurry and he realized that his glasses weren't on his face. His brow furrowed in confusion. Wasn't he at the Dursley's?

Harry yawned sleepily and rubbed his achy eyes. He froze when he felt the linen bandages wrapped around his hands. Bandages? He shifted in the bed and found that bandages were wrapped around his torso and shoulders to cover his back fully. His left arm was in a hardened cast it seemed while there was a cool numbing cream covered in linens placed on his stomach where his uncle had carved that horrid word into his skin. A damp cold cloth was fixed to his forehead also.

Harry reached out his good hand and tried to find his glasses that were hopefully close by on a nightstand or table. He found them a moment later and quickly placed them on his nose and began to look around.

Harry sat in the middle of a large king sized bed that was placed in a lavishly decorated room. Dark green walls with large window that reached high up to the ceiling sat on the far right wall. Harry could see sunlight filtering in through the black hangings. Black furnishings, a dresser, two nightstands and multiple bookcases, were placed around and against the walls. A double door led out of the room and, from where harry could see, into a study with surrounding bookcases, a large desk covered in parchments, quills and notebooks and oddly enough a large flat rock (AN: Nagini's rock.)

Harry slowly sat up and winced as his wounds burned from not being fully healed yet. The cloth fell from his forehead and onto the black drawstring slacks he wore. He shivered when the warm air hit his bare skinned chest. Evergreen sheets pooled in his lap as he tried to figure out what was happening. Harry listened and heard the faint sound of running water. He looked up and spotted a door on the left side of the room. Golden light filtered in through the bottom of the door and across the shaggy thick carpet.

Harry debated if he should risk getting up to find out where he was or wait until whoever comes out of the bathroom to explain.

He didn't have to wait for long….

The water was turned off and faint swishing sound could be heard. The door opened and harry found himself with a weird sight.

Lord Voldemort stood before him clad in a dark green long shirt with black slacks and bare feet. A white towel was draped across his shoulders and the end of a toothbrush was sticking out between his lipless mouth. His red eyes had widened when seeing Harry awake and the man, the Dark Lord of the Wizarding World, looked somewhat funny just standing there.

Harry felt a spark ignite in his heart. He had doubted Voldemort and now he was standing here right in front of him. He had hoped that the Dark Lord would make the miserable summer end by coming and ending his life. But why would the man heal him? Why help him? It didn't make any sense to Harry….

The Dark Lord pulled the toothbrush out and wiped his mouth from the toothpaste foam before approaching Harry. He sat on the edge of the bed while Harry watched him with still glassy emerald eyes. Dark circles had formed under the boy's eyes, his hair was matted to his sweaty forehead and his cheeks were feverishly flushed. He had many infected wounds that had then formed into a fever along with being stuck down in the damp basement. He looked so tiny in the large bed….

Voldemort reached out a pale hand, ignoring the flinch the young boy gave, and placed it on the hot forehead. He had found that, when he had no malicious intent towards him, Voldemort could touch Harry without causing him any pain, though he did not know where the pain came from in the first place. He frowned when he felt the child's fever had spiked during the time he was freshening up.

Voldemort stood and moved over to the nightstand. He began to shift through the multiple potions and creams he had used to heal Harry the night before. Finding the fever reducer within the mass of glass bottles, the Dark Lord turned back to the child.

Harry was almost sure he was delirious. He rubbed his green eyes with his bandaged hands and yawned softly. He was tired. He just wanted to burrow under the sheets and curl up to sleep for years. He mumbled as he yawned again:

"Sleepy…."

Voldemort smiled softly as he watched Harry. Seating him beside Harry again, he moved the tired child's hands from the soft face and turned the face towards him. He placed the edge of the vial to Harry's lips before tilting the red liquid back into the tired child's mouth.

Harry, not expecting the potion, choked on the red slime and began to heave, trying to keep the liquid from going down the wrong pipe. He clung to the Dark Lord's clothed shoulders as he wheezed and coughed. Spidery fingers ran up and down his back comfortingly as he tried to regain his breath.

"I am sorry Harry." A soft voice muttered. Harry looked up from his teary eyes as he breathed in and out. Voldemort was looking him over in concern. "I did not mean to startle you. Your fever spiked and I was trying giving to give you a fever reducer. I apologize. I should have warned you before."

"Why….would you…want to help…me?" Breathed Harry as he slowly regained his breath. The coughing had tuckered him out. His eyes felt heavy and he could hardly hold himself upright. He gladly leaned into the Dark Lord's chest for support. "You wanted…me dead…before…why care now?" Harry asked softly, his eyes already drooping.

Voldemort eyes saddened at Harry's statement. He gently carded his fingers through soft raven hair. He noticed that Harry was falling asleep and decided to hold the small boy until he had drifted off. He pulled the emaciated body onto his lap and rocked the boy as he rubbed up and down Harry's spine. Voldemort rested his pointed chin on top of Harry's head as the child slowly nodded off.

Harry was just beginning to fall in the clutches of sleep when he heard Voldemort speak:

"It is because I care Harry. I care for you and you deserve better than this. You deserve to be loved and I want to give that to you. I regret what I have done before and I want to make it up to you. And I hope you can forgive me over time."

Harry felt the Dark Lord take a deep breath and sigh into his hair. Gentle fingers ran up and down his spine soothingly. A chaste kiss was placed on the top of his head and the man rested his chin on top of Harry's black hair again.

"I am sorry Harry." Harry heard the man whisper. Voldemort seemed to pause. "Sleep little one." He said, beginning to rock Harry back and forth once more. "You and I will speak later when you are better."

Harry almost didn't believe the man. Hadn't Voldemort wanted to kill him? Why would he want to care for him? Why…Harry drifted off in the arms of Lord Voldemort, the most terrifying and darkest man in the Wizarding World.

~o~

Voldemort closed his eyes as he held Harry close. Harry's breaths tickled his collar as sleep claimed him and the Dark Lord could not help but fall in love with the little boy. He could already see Harry as his own child that he had always wanted but never had. The little Gryffindor seemed to have wormed his way into his locked up heart.

Voldemort had never let anyone in and Harry had already gotten further than anyone that had tried. Harry seemed to bring out feelings the man had never experienced in his life. He felt like a…..a parent with Harry. He cared for the boy and couldn't stand to see him hurt.

The Dark Lord shifted Harry in his arms before he stood. He placed the small child on the bed and pulled the sheets up to the boy's chin as well as tucking him in. Placing a chaste kiss to the Harry's scarred forehead, Voldemort looked down at the young boy who was slowly changing him, unbeknownst to the child and man himself. If someone had studied the Dark Lord's features at that moment they would have noticed the small change in his face. The slitted nose protruded, only slightly, out from its original flatness. The man didn't even notice the change, for it was only just the start of what would come when he and Harry would fully become father and son….(AN: Thanks for the idea Ecila Raveniz Thgilyad!)

Voldemort petted back the unruly hair before he removed Harry's glasses and turned to the door flicking his wrist and turning off the lights instantly. He turned in the doorway to look back at the Harry who was so small in the huge bed. Voldemort smiled softly and turned, closing the door behind him. He had some certain Muggles to torture…..


	3. Chapter 3

(AN: Yay!Chapter 3 is now up! 'fist pumps')

Chapter 3

The Dark Lord swept down the long hallway while adjusting his black cloak. He was going to go interrogate the filthy Muggles that were Harry's family as well as give each of them a good dose of the Cruciatus….

Voldemort clasped his hands behind his back and continued to make his way to the Grand Hall where he conducted most of his meetings. He had ordered his Deatheaters to bring up the family and hold them in the Hall until he got there for their interrogation. The man had a bad feeling about what he would get out of the vile people. Voldemort massaged his face, wearily. He was growing tired of discovering how deep the old man's manipulations ran….

_ "Marvolo?" _An inquiry hiss came from the floor. Red eyes looked down to gaze into golden yellow ones. The large snake slid over the maroon rug to match the man's pace. Green scales shimmered in the candlelight as Nagini's long slim form slithered along beside her human familiar. She was a magical viper with deadly venom along with strong muscles to choke her prey. She was roughly 12 feet long and as thick as a person's thigh.

_ "What issss it Nagini?"_ Marvolo sighed, rubbing his temples. (AN: I will call him Marvolo from now on. Harry will get to call him Marvolo also.)

_ "You are troubled." _Nagini hissed, her black tongue flicking in the air as she raised her head off the ground. _"The sssmall sssnakeling you brought back from the non-magicssss issss troubling you. What about the youngling hasss you sssso worried?" _Marvolo sighed. Nagini was surprisingly smart when it came to judging his emotions, especially when the snake knew just when to stop annoying him before he hexed her…

_ "It isss…It'sssss...I am worried about Harry." _Marvolo finally admitted. _"Harry hasss been manipulated sssso much that I have the feeling if any more sssecretsss that are dissscovered it will tear him apart. The old man created a fake prophecy sssso I killed hisss family for nothing and I feel I am resssponsssible for his placement in his relatives abusive home. I have also tried to kill him ssso many timesss. How can Harry ever grow to trussst me when I have hurt him sssso much." _ Marvolo spoke wearily.

Nagini looked up at her familiar in concern. Obviously the hatchling had been through a lot in his "home" because Marvolo wouldn't be showing his emotions so openly right now, even to her. Personally, Nagini thought it was good for him. The man had always wanted a child of his own but with the war between the Dark and Light it had ended any of his thoughts about mating and producing hatchlings, though Nagini always nagged him about giving her some cute nieces or little nephews for her to be an aunt for.

They continued down the long hall in silence while Nagini thought of a way to respond to Marvolo. She could always come up with ways to cheer him up. Nagini always liked seeing her honorary brother in all but blood and species laugh. Not like the cold, heartless and evil laugh that made a shiver run down her spine but the happy, full laughter that warmed the room and relaxed her. She enjoyed seeing Marvolo happy and it was very rare, especially now, with everything that was happening.

_ "Ssssmall green-eyessss issss sssstrong." _Nagini assured helpfully. _"I mean, how could he have defeated you if he wasssn't ssstrong." _She snickered for she could feel the dark glare being directed at the back of her broad head. If snakes could grin Nagini would be doing so right now.

_ "Sssometimesss I wonder why I have not killed you yet…." _Marvolo sniffed indignantly.

_ "You would misssss me and you know it….bassstard."_ Nagini hissed in retaliation. Her yellow eyes glittered with mirth when Marvolo's scowl deepened.

_ "I could do without your insssultssss big sisssster." _Marvolo hissed darkly, his pupils barely visible due to his annoyance.

_ "I love you too little brother." _Nagini responded sarcastically as she thought of the little one that Marvolo, in such a short time, claimed as his own. In the past, if Nagini even mentioned hatchlings Marvolo would try to change the subject or ignore her altogether. She believed that he would create a whole new line of little snake speakers that not only would carry on Salazar Slytherin's legacy but provide Marvolo with some family. He had her of course, but she was a familiar, not actual flesh and blood. With some children of his own, Marvolo wouldn't have to be so stressed and could actually relax once in a while. Green-eyes seemed to change Marvolo's views on family in a heartbeat and Nagini was grateful for it.

They followed the maroon rug in silence before they came to a pair of mahogany double doors that would lead into the main hall. Nagini, while flicking her tongue into the air, and could already taste the non-magics that lay behind the two doors. She dearly hoped that Marvolo didn't expect her to clean up after this interrogation. These humans smelled foul! Nagini almost regurgitated her breakfast right then and there due to scents that seemed to radiate off of the three humans.

_ "Thesssse….thingssss ssssmell horrid!"_ Nagini hissed in disgust at the scent of the muggles dominated all of the others. _"How can othersss even breathe around thesssse people without choking on the air?!"_

_ "Would you like to accompany me?" _Marvolo asked Nagini innocently, his lips twitching as he suppressed his laughter.

_ "Urgh….Leave me out of it."_ Nagini choked out as she began to slither away from the door the stench leaked from. _"I'm going to leave the maiming and flaying of the onessss who hurt green-eyessss to you while I go and study this child that hasss you practically falling head over heelsss to protect him." _Nagini hissed as she slithered down a joining hall that led away from the foul odor. "_It'sss about time I get a nephew." _

Marvolo groaned in annoyance. Stupid Nagini…He was not even sure if Harry was ready for a family yet, especially for Marvolo to be a part of it. He had killed Harry's parents, put him through Hell, and tried to kill him many times. Marvolo had even broken his oath he and all of his followers took! The oath that stated that no magical child was ever to be tortured by the Dark! Marvolo was so stressed with all these new emotions and thoughts swirling in the forefront of his mind. He needed to burn off some steam.

_ "I can assssure Harry." _Marvolo hissed softly, pulling the hood of his cloak over his bald head. _"I will protect you from now on."_ He then pushed open the large double doors between him and the filth that dared harm magical blood.

~o~

Marvolo strode into the hall briskly, cloak billowing behind him with barely a rustle of fabric as he strode across the white marble floors. A silver high-back chair that had rubies embedded into the metal sat at the front of the hall. Obsidian colored pillars seemed to hold up the white colored ceiling while forest green walls enclosed the large room. Low to the floor windows reached up to the ceiling along the walls, black drapes hanging from each one. A long matching forest green rug ran from the dark-wooded double doors to the three stone steps that led up to the Dark Lord's throne. Two black tapestries hung on either side of the chair, each with a green, moving picture on the Dark Mark. A fanged skull had a snake, a similar version of Nagini, winding out of the skull's mouth. The snake moved as if it were alive on the dark fabric. Rearing and faintly hissing. 20 or so masked and cloaked Death Eaters stood in between the pillars, watching as Marvolo swept to his seat.

The Dursleys, the pathetic muggles they were, cowered before Marvolo in their bound and gagged state. Vernon and Petunia were huddled together, shaking in fear as they now realized that this was all too real. Dudley Dursley was shaking and crying big, ugly tears as he shook in fear between his parents.

Marvolo drifted up the steps to his seat before sitting regally in his throne, red molten eyes surveying his followers. He could already feel the disgust and fiery rage rolling off many of his followers. Barty, who stood off to the side with Lucius and his wife, Narcissa Malfoy, was practically crackling with his own magic as his emotions got the better of him. His blue eyes were filled with insanity and dark intent, a true cause of his stay in Azkaban prison, from the eye holes of the skull mask that all Deatheaters wore.

Lucius was gripping his snake head cane, where his wand lay. Not many knew that the top of the cane held the man's wand, so at all times it was in his hand and right now he was struggling not to use it on the muggles that lay before them. Lucius had been annoyed with the Boy-Who-Lived, not only with the stories of the boy's ignorance from Severus and his own son but also for the whole second year disaster with his Master's trinket. However, seeing the boy's memories of pure torture and along with the added prophecy that he knew made his Master go after the child was a fake, a trick all played out by Dumbledore, had changed his views drastically. He clenched his left hand into his wife's robes as Narcissa rubbed his arm in an attempt to soothe her husband.

Marvolo steepled his fingers under his shrouded chin, elbows resting on the armrests, and focused his gaze on the three…_creatures_, for a lack of a better term, before him before speaking:

"You, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, have committed the ultimate act of sin. You have not only abused and tortured your nephew that you were entrusted to care for but have also beaten into the child's mind that he is a _freak_," At the word 'freak' Deatheaters from on all sides of the room began to snarl and whisper excitedly around room, waiting to see the muggles dealt with. "and forced him into harming himself , trying to reach death." Marvolo stood up suddenly with a snarl as he spoke on, voice rising higher and higher until he was screaming. "You are nothing but a disgrace to magical blood! How dare you harm an innocent child for his gift of magic! How dare you try to beat what is not only in his heritage but in his blood out of him to purge what you claim to make him abnormal and a freak! I may be a murderer and Dark Lord but even I have limits! I don't condone the torture of children with magical blood!" Marvolo breathed harshly in and out. His Deatheaters were shaking in fear as their Lord's anger and dark aura swept over them, making them shiver at such power.

Marvolo flicked his wrist, letting his white yew wand slip into his hand. Twirling and caressing the wood in his hand he strode up to the three. He sneered, nose scrunched in disgust, when he noticed the fat Dursley boy had wet himself, a large wet patch staining the front of his brown trousers. He signaled to two of his followers to take the woman and boy so he could stand before the large walrus-like man, alone.

Vernon eyes were bulged and bloodshot, swirling with fear and anger. His fat body quaked and quivered under the ruby eyed glare that seemed to spark with molten fire and destruction from the fiery pits of Hell itself. His purple complexion faded quickly to a pale, ghostly white as he saw the wand level with him, reds glowing ominously at the tip.

"You have caused the brunt of Harrison's many injuries. Squashed his supposed to be happy childhood into nothing more than a sink or swim life. Beat him and punished him to get your point across to him that he was nothing more than a freak of nature." Marvolo pressed the wand into the sweating man's neck as spit dribbled from the gag that kept the Dursley from replying, eyes glowing from under the dark hood.

His followers shifted in anticipation at seeing the muggle filth get what was coming to him. They wanted to watch the man to scream and writhe on the ground with no mercy or pity. They wanted to see him beg for death and not be rewarded with that simple mercy. They wanted him to pay for everything that he had done to the boy that was sleeping upstairs, sick, malnourished and hurt. They wanted him to be turned inside out, severed limb from limb, burned in the hottest fire and tortured to the brink of insanity.

Many of Marvolo's followers could remember the first instance when one of their own had broken the sacred oath to never harm a magical child unless with the use of the painless killing curse. Jonathan Kherr had cornered a little, six year old, half-blood child and began to torture her with the Cruciatus. The girl had almost been swept into the depths of insanity, one of the many effects of long duration under the spell, until the Dark Lord had stepped in himself and put an end to it. Marvolo had handed off the unconscious girl to one of his healers before dealing with the scum that dare disobey the oath. Jonathan had begged for what seemed hours on end until he just screamed after his mind was shattered from the Dark Lord's torture. He had been set aflame, well alive, and burned before everyone. The girl's mind had been broken and she had been nothing but a husk of herself, drooling and gurgling nonsense. The healer had tried as best he could to save the girl but it had been too late. Marvolo had spared the child of her madness and ended her life, quick and painless, so she could be at peace.

Marvolo gazed around the room as some started to shout out ideas of torture. 'Burn him at the stake!' 'Sever him limb from limb!' 'Throw him to Fenrir and his dogs!'. Rang around the room as his followers began to riot and cheer him on. He heard a 'Cut him up and douse him in lemon juice!' from Peter Pettigrew as the stout rat like man seemed to get pumped up from the thought of his once best friend's son being harmed in such a way. If Marvolo were not so angered he would have rolled his eyes at such a silly torture idea, but he was far too upset to care. Turning back to the cowering man, he spoke sinisterly:

"It is time for you to face the punishment for what you have done." He then stepped back a little ways before hissing out a single curse: _"Crucio!"_

~o~

Nagini used her blunt snout to push open the large door to Marvolo's bedroom. She then slithered forward, door shutting softly behind her. Moving across the floor and to the side of the bed, she pushed her head up to inspect the lump in the bed.

Her glowing yellow eyes peeked up over the edge to see Green-eyes' chest rise slowly and steadily. He was curled up in the center of the bed, raven hair splayed across the pillows his head was propped up on. Nagini eyed the bandages with a critical eye as she shimmied up onto the covers, approaching the cute little hatchling.

She curled around Green-eyes, careful of his injuries so not to irritate them further, and nuzzled her head into his shoulder, tasting his scent. He smelt of sickness, blood and malnourishment as well as potions. What surprised Nagini the most was that he smelled of Marvolo! Not the small lingering smell that was transferred from contact or touch but the deep odor that was just there.

Nagini pulled back to study Green-eyes. It was strange. She had this weird feeling that she was connected to him, through what she had no idea, but it seemed right. Green-eyes shifted in his sleep and burrowed into her cool scales. Nagini grinned as best as a snake could as she curled up around him gently, deciding to join him in sleep.

'_I finally have a nephew.' _She thought lazily as she drifted off, warm and content. _'And if Marvolo even thinks of teasing me for getting so attached, I will rip off his balls, the smug bastard.' _With that Nagini fell asleep, never making the connection that Harry held with Marvolo and how special he was to be the first life sustaining horcrux that Marvolo had ever made.

(AN: Phew! Finally! After many months of not being able to update I finally done with the third chapter! Hope you enjoy and feel free to make any more suggestions for my story.)


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